


The Father

by tsuki_llama



Series: The Office [8]
Category: Darker Than Black
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuki_llama/pseuds/tsuki_llama
Summary: Hei meets Misaki's father for the first time. It...does not go well.
Relationships: Hei/Kirihara Misaki
Series: The Office [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/483635
Comments: 19
Kudos: 152





	The Father

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place following The Medium, but before The Flowers.

“Remind me to ban all use of PowerPoint in this office,” Misaki said, craning her neck to peek through the open conference room door. The rest of the team had all left for the night, but Misaki would never risk any of them overhearing a disparaging remark, no matter how slight.

She rolled her chair over a couple feet and pushed the door shut. “Now I know why Saitou only wears gray, black, or white - the man must be colorblind.”

“Are slides not supposed to look like that?” Hei asked.

He straightened the stack of printouts in front of him in an attempt to hide his impatience. Spending the past two hours sitting next to Misaki and being unable to take her hand or even brush her foot under the table lest their coworkers catch on had been pure torture. Knowing that that interminable presentation was all that stood between him and a whole night with her had been even worse.

“Neon blue with yellow font? No.”

“I liked the way the titles bounced all over the screen.”

He glanced up to see Misaki staring at him, a horrified expression on her face.

“Hei, sometimes I really have no idea if you’re being serious or not.”

He smiled. “It did give me a slight headache. But I thought that must be what they always look like; I’ve never seen a slide presentation before.”

“What, never?”

“The Syndicate didn’t exactly have departmental training seminars.”

Misaki snorted. “I guess they wouldn’t, would they. Well, when it’s your turn to make a presentation, I’ll walk you through the appropriate color schemes.”

Hei blinked. “ _My_ turn?”

“Of course.” Misaki raised one eyebrow. “You don’t think that just because you’re dating the boss, that lets you off the hook?”

“Yes?”

She laughed, then shut her laptop lid. “Speaking of - what do you say we grab some dinner, then head back to my place. And I meant to mention this the other day, but…I was thinking maybe you’d like to spend more than just tonight and tomorrow together?”

A disbelieving thrill ran up his spine. “The whole weekend?”

Misaki nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink. “Yes. I mean, I don’t know about you, but one day hasn’t really been enough for me; I’m sure we could find something to keep occupied the whole weekend,” she added with a glint in her eye.

Hei rolled his chair closer to hers. “I have a better idea.”

“Oh?” She crossed her legs and leaned slightly towards him, her collar gaping open a bit.

He reached out and idly undid the top button of her blouse. “We skip dinner.”

“I’m listening.”

His handed drifted down to the next button. “We skip going to your place…”

“Hei!” She swatted his hand away, blushing furiously. “We’re in the middle of the office!”

Hei held back a smile; he hadn’t really been serious, but the way her eyes had darkened at his words was stirring his blood. “Everyone’s gone. There aren’t any cameras in this room.”

“But what if someone forgot something, and comes back?” She stood abruptly, snatched the stack of papers from the table, and stalked over to the filing cabinet against the wall. Hei watched her stuff the papers into a folder; then she turned and leaned against the cabinet, as if being any closer to him would destroy her self-control.

He knew exactly how she felt. Normally he would never consider taking such a risk either, cameras or no, but the way she was obviously into the idea…

Misaki crossed her arms. “So is it a yes to the weekend?”

“Only if you let me cook for you tonight.”

“Deal. We can swing by your place so you can pack a bag.”

Hei slouched back in his chair. “Actually, my stuff’s here. In the Super Eight.”

The Super Eight was what they called the small bunkroom on the first floor. It held a couple of showers and eight cots for beat cops working long shifts to have a place to nap, or detectives who were deep in a pressing case and didn’t want to take the time to go home for a night.

The bunks were supposed to be first-come, first-serve, but on Hei’s first visit he’d noticed a handwritten sign on one particular bunk that read:

_~~Officer Kirihara~~ _

_~~Detective Kirihara~~ _

_The Chief_

It wasn’t her handwriting, and he’d never seen anyone use it.

Misaki’s brow wrinkled. “What? Why?”

“Uh, you know that fire report that came in early this morning?”

“The one just east of here? I didn’t really read it; there weren’t any contractors - oh god, Hei! That wasn’t _your_ building, was it? What happened?”

“Nothing to do with me,” he said quickly - too quickly, he realized when Misaki’s eyebrows shot up. “Not that it would…” He cleared his throat self-consciously. “I don’t know. I’d just gotten home from a run when the fire alarms went off. So I grabbed my bag and left.”

“God, that’s awful - was anyone hurt?”

He shook his head. “The whole building is gone, though.”

“That’s a relief, at least; but where are you going to live now?”

“I’ll figure something out; the Super Eight will be fine for a few weeks.”

Misaki shook her head at him; then she returned to the conference table and picked up her phone. Resting her hip on the edge of the table, she tapped the screen. Hei reached up to run his fingers down the outside of her leg, and smiled when she swatted his hand away.

“Wow, these photos…there really is nothing left. You’re so lucky you were able to get out, and with your things!”

He shrugged. “I’m always ready to run on a moment’s notice. Old habit,” he added at Misaki’s look of compassion.

She rested her hand on the back of his neck, lightly massaging a knot out of his muscles. “It says in this article that they suspect the cause was a faulty electrical appliance…everyone got out safely…’there was one harrowing moment when a small boy was seen to be trapped on a third floor balcony’ - oh my god - ‘but one resident, a young man, scaled the building and brought him out safely; the heroic resident declined to comment or give his name’.” Her hand froze on his neck.

“What?”

“Were you going to tell me any of this?”

Hei almost flinched at the accusation. “Um, any of what? I did tell you - there was a fire, no one got hurt.”

“Only because you ran into a burning building to save a small child!”

He couldn’t quite meet her eyes. “You don’t know that was me.” At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Alright, it was me. But the fire hadn’t reached that side of the building yet; it wasn’t as dangerous as it sounds.”

“And if the fire _had_ gotten that far?”

When he didn’t answer, she sighed and ran her fingers through his hair. “Sometimes, I have no idea what I’m going to do with you.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant; but he said, “I could give you a suggestion or two.”

This time, she didn’t swat his hand away when he caressed the soft flesh of her hip. Instead, she shifted so that she was sitting on the edge of the table, legs crossed, her fingers still nestled in his hair. “Oh? And what would those be?”

Hei ran his hand down her leg, then gently lifted her knee and pressed it to the side. He rolled his chair so that he was positioned between her legs. “Well, first, you should probably keep a close eye on me.”

Misaki rested her elbows on his shoulders, leaning forward; the second button on her blouse was invitingly close. “I can probably manage that.”

“Second,” he began, before Misaki stopped him with a long kiss.

“Second?” she asked when she finally released his lips.

“Second what,” was all he could manage.

“I don’t know, you were -” and then he was kissing her, one hand fumbling for the next button on her blouse while her hand roamed down his chest. Thank goodness there _weren’t_ any cameras in here. He didn’t think he could stop if -

The door latch clicked.

Hei was saved only by his highly-tuned reflexes. He instinctively let go of Misaki and pushed his chair back, rolling to a stop against the wall where he had room to pull one of his - he froze, realizing that he didn’t _have_ his knives.

Misaki opened her mouth in surprise, nearly falling off the table; before she could say anything, the conference room door opened.

An older man with receding hair, graying at the temples, walked in.

“Dad!” Misaki exclaimed, her face going red as she straightened up. “What - um, hi. You’re back from Kyoto?”

Kirihara - Hei recognized him from the handful of photos that Misaki had around her apartment - glanced between the two of them, nonplussed. ‘

Hei tried to fix a casual expression on his face, like he hadn’t been just about to leap up and attack - and that he hadn’t just been kissing the man’s daughter in the middle of the empty office.

“Yes; I got back this afternoon. I thought you might be working late.”

“We just wrapped up a training seminar,” Misaki said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, although none were out of place. “I was going to head out soon. Oh, and this is Li Hei, our new recruit. Li, this is Superintendent Kirihara, Criminal Investigations. Um, my father.”

Hei stood and bowed awkwardly. He smoothed down the front of his shirt, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t taken Misaki up on the offer of a more casual dress code. Her father was wearing an immaculate slate gray suit, and looked as if he’d been born to it. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Kirihara returned his bow, at the barest minimum of politeness. Out of the corner of his eye, Hei noticed Misaki hastily doing up her two buttons.

“I had heard that you’d finally hired someone; though not a contractor like you wanted,” Kirihara said, turning back to his daughter.

“Yeah. Li is a perfect match for the position in all other respects though.”

“I’m sure he is. Well, I stopped by to take you out to dinner and celebrate your first new hire as Director. Li, you are certainly welcome to join us.”

Hei felt like a panther who’d just climbed a tree to find a boa constrictor waiting for him. He smiled and rubbed the back of his head. “Um, that’s very kind of you, sir,” he said. “But I don’t want to intrude.”

“I insist. My division coordinates with Section Four often; it’s good that I get to know your members.”

Hei risked a quick glance at Misaki; she looked back helplessly. “Well, then; okay,” he said, feeling a coil tighten around his neck.

“Give us a couple minutes to finish cleaning up here,” Misaki said. She gestured to the conference table, which was completely empty now save for her laptop. “Um. We’ll meet you downstairs.”

Kirihara raised one eyebrow, but he nodded. “There’s a new seafood restaurant down the block; we can walk.”

Hei bowed again as Kirihara left, but the other man had already turned and didn’t see.

“Hei, I’m so sorry,” Misaki said, her hand on her temple. “I had no idea he was even back in town, let alone planning on stopping by here. God, I nearly had a heart attack.”

She sighed. “I don’t think I can say no to dinner; I haven’t seen Dad in a few weeks. But you really don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

He really did not want to. He’d known that he would meet Misaki’s father eventually, known it in an abstract sort of way, but he wasn’t even close to being ready. Misaki had told him a little, here and there, but nowhere near enough for him to know how to act in a dinner setting. He’d never met a girlfriend’s father before; was there a protocol? Should he offer to pay for the meal?

Instead of accepting the out she was offering, however, he said, “It’s up to you.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, I do want him to get to know you. You don’t mind that I didn’t introduce you as my, well, boyfriend? It’s not that I want to keep anything from him,” she added hurriedly. “Dad just has a tendency to put a little…pressure, on the guys I date.”

Hei blinked. “Pressure like what?”

“I don’t know. Just impossibly high standards, I guess.”

He offered her a smile. “Well, you did tell me that the two of you are a lot alike; that doesn’t surprise me. Maybe it’ll be best if we get to know each other professionally first. Then when we decide to tell people we’re dating it’ll be easier?”

Misaki nodded slowly. “You may be right.” Then her eyes narrowed slightly. “Just knock it off with the _Li Shengshun_ schtick.”

“Ah, right. Sorry. That wasn’t intentional; he caught me off guard.”

“Good. You don’t need to _be_ anyone to impress him, except yourself.”

“I’m not going to worry about impressing him,” Hei said, his stomach already twisting in a knot. “If we get through the evening and he doesn’t hate me, I’ll be happy.”

“Why on earth would he hate you?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never had to do anything like this before. I have no idea what I’m doing - he’ll never think I’m good enough for you. What do I even talk about?”

Misaki crossed her arms. “Hei, you are one of the best covert operatives in the world; I can’t even count the number of organizations and societies you’ve infiltrated. You can handle an evening of small talk with my father.”

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “For luck; don’t worry, you’ll be fine. _I_ like you, so he will too.”

Hei only wished that he could be as certain.

~~~~o~~~~

Misaki and her father spent the short walk to the restaurant talking about Kirihara’s recent business trip. Hei listened with interest; while they weren’t exactly _formal_ with each other, he wouldn’t have guessed that they were family if he hadn’t already known. Kirihara had a naturally reserved manner, and Misaki was nowhere near as animated as she had been at the poker game, though she was a bit more relaxed than she usually was with her team.

Hei wondered if that was for his sake, to help hide their relationship, or if this was genuinely how the two of them interacted. He tried to take his cue from her. Professional. He could do professional.

He focused on picking up any little details that he could - anything that could tell him what sort of man the Superintendent was and what sort of person he would respond well to. The more he listened, though, it seemed the less he gleaned.

Kirihara didn’t bull his way through the street, but there was a certain confidence in his step; clearly he was used to being in charge, though he had no expectation of undue deference. Kouno had told him once that the Superintendent had been a bit of a legend in his early days as a detective. Hei _hadn’t_ heard that Kirihara had any kind of reputation for bravado, which he would expect to come naturally from such a start. Listening to him matter-of-factly recount the golf game that he’d played with his Kyoto counterpoints, Hei was surprised to detect a distinct tone of modesty.

It reminded him of Misaki.

“Li, do you golf at all?” Kirihara asked, startling Hei into the conversation.

“Um, no sir. I’ve never played.”

“You should consider it. It’s healthy exercise, not to mention good for your career. You can make a lot of important connections on the green.”

“Dad, the police isn’t an old boys’ club anymore,” Misaki said. “You don’t have to golf just to get ahead.”

“Just because you dislike the sport doesn’t mean it’s useless, Misaki,” Kirihara told her, a hint of friendly argument in his voice.

Misaki snorted. “Well, it’s certainly boring. Anyway, I’m sure Li will join the intramural baseball league once that starts up again this spring. Baseball is great for building camaraderie, which is more important than connections.”

“Sure,” Hei said. “That sounds interesting.”

He’d listened to enough of Saitou and Matsumoto’s discussions about their favorite teams to bullshit his way through a conversation about it, and was on the verge of asking Kirihara which national team he supported, when he realized that Misaki would see through him in an instant. And disapprove.

Instead he said, “But, uh, I don’t know how to play baseball either.”

Kirihara raised an eyebrow. “No? What sports did you play in school, then?”

“Um, none.” Hei laughed and rubbed the back of his head - stopping abruptly when Misaki caught his eye. Too much _Li_. Right.

“Didn’t you tell me you practiced marital arts as a kid?” she prompted.

“Uh, yeah. My grandfather -” he ignored the painful tightening in his chest “- ran a school. In China.”

To his relief, Kirihara nodded approvingly. “Very useful. And you’ve kept up with it? Good; so many officers let themselves go, to the point where they can’t even chase down a suspect anymore. Complacency will kill you. Especially with the sort people you deal with in Public Security. I know Misaki places a great deal of emphasis on physical training for her team.”

“Um, yes sir.”

“I would say Li is even more advanced in hand-to-hand than Kouno,” Misaki said with a smile. “I’m trying to convince him to give the whole team a lesson in disarming an opponent.”

“Everyone is already pretty good at that,” Hei protested, fighting a blush at the compliment.

He was saved from further comment by their arrival at the restaurant. The host seated them right away, despite that it was Friday night and clearly busy. And, as he glanced around for the exits and any potential surveillance, Hei realized he was definitely under-dressed. Misaki and her father, in their tailored suits, fit right in with the after-work crowd. Hei, in a simple button-up and jeans…not so much. Each table was covered in a crisp white table cloth; the low hum of conversation and muted clinks of silverware only underscored the classiness.

It was a far cry from the beer-battered shrimp he’d been planning on frying for Misaki.

“Well then, as we’re celebrating, I think a bottle of wine is in order,” Kirihara said, opening up the wine list. “How about this two thousand two cab?”

Misaki wrinkled her nose. “Cabernet? Dad, you know I don’t like dry wines.”

“I’ll convert you eventually. Li, what about you? Would you prefer something more sweet?”

Hei knew little to nothing about wine. Given a day or so, he could have researched all the vocabulary he would need to fake an appreciation.

He didn’t have a day or so. He also didn’t want to actually drink. This evening would be hard enough without having to focus through an alcohol buzz. Faking drinking with a clear wine glass would also be a challenge.

“Um, I don’t drink, actually,” he said. “Order whatever you and, uh, the Chief prefer.”

Kirihara cast him a discerning look. “Oh? I see. And I’m surprised; not many young men your age would be able to take such a step so early. The agency has a zero-tolerance policy, as I’m sure Misaki has explained.”

It took Hei a moment to understand the older man’s meaning. Misaki caught on at about the same time, too. “Dad!” she exclaimed, while Hei said, “That’s not - I don’t have a _problem_ , I just don’t really care for it.”

“I’m not judging,” Kirihara said.

“Dad, you’re making assumptions.”

“Assumptions, or reasonable deduction? As I said, I’m not making judgments. Let’s go with the merlot, then.”

Misaki cast Hei an apologetic glance; he hoped that this was simply an example of the pressure she’d been talking about earlier.

The server came and took their orders; Hei was careful to order the same size dish that Kirihara did, rather than his usual large portions. Misaki, of course, chose the greasiest item on the menu; though Hei noticed that she was barely touching her wine.

“So, Li,” Kirihara said, picking up his own wine glass and studying Hei carefully across the table, “you said your grandfather teaches in China. Is that where you were raised, then?”

“Yes, sir. In Xi’an. Um, that’s in Shaanxi Province.”

“What brought you to Tokyo - did your family move here?”

Hei took a long sip of water. “No. They’re all still in China. I came up here a couple of years ago, to work.”

“That’s quite a move just for a job. You say you’ve been in the city for a couple of years.” Kirihara’s brow furrowed. “It’s strange, but you do look a bit familiar. We haven’t met before, have we?”

“Um, I don’t think so.” There _was_ a subtle familiarity in both the man’s face and voice; but Hei couldn’t place either, except in a general familial resemblance to Misaki. The longer Kirihara spoke, the more he could hear it.

“What did you do before you joined the police?”

“I, uh, worked for an international business organization.” He met Misaki’s eye, but couldn’t read her expression.

“Oh? That is quite a different line from the police.”

“Yes sir. But honestly, I prefer the police.”

“His last position gave him a great facility with languages and interpersonal skills,” Misaki said around a forkful of fried shrimp. “People trust him easily, which is invaluable for the police.”

“Certainly,” Kirihara said. “Though in my experience, contractors can typically see right through human emotion.”

“You haven’t had direct contact with many contractors,” Misaki told him. “Even ten years ago, when the Gates appeared, you were already off the street and in an office.”

“Yes, Misaki, you do have more experience in that arena than I do.” Kirihara’s expression remained bland, but Hei heard a distinct note of pride in his voice. “You don’t need to remind me.”

“I’ve heard from my other teammates about your early undercover work though, sir,” Hei said quickly. “You must have a lot of experience there, even if contractors weren’t involved.”

He was afraid to meet Misaki’s eye. Was that too much brown nosing?

It was a wasted effort, in any case. Instead of taking the opening to talk about himself, Kirihara merely said, “Certainly; but that was quite a long time ago. Pushing paper and playing departmental politics seems to be my only relevant experience, now.

“Still, if I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to join Section Four. You get far more interesting cases in your department, even if you do have to deal with contractors. What drew you to Section Four, Li? It is highly unusual for a rookie to get accepted onto Misaki’s team.” He cast _both_ Misaki and Hei a scrutinizing glance at that last comment.

Hei’s brain did a bit of mental flailing. On the one hand, he did want Misaki’s dad to like him; in addition to being her father, he was one of Hei’s superiors. Hei had never cared about what his superiors thought about him in the Syndicate; if he actually wanted to make this whole _career_ thing work, though, he _had_ to start caring now.

But on the other hand, every instinct instilled in him from his training was screaming at him to be unremarkable, unimportant. Not someone even worth remembering.

Certainly not someone with the skills or interest in joining Section Four.

Though Misaki _had_ asked him to try and be himself this evening.

“Yeah. Um, well, when my last job didn’t quite work out -”

“Oh?” Kirihara raised an eyebrow. “You were fired? What for? Not slacking off, I hope.”

“No,” Hei said hurriedly. “I had a, uh, philosophical conflict with my employers.”

It was Misaki’s turn to raise an eyebrow. Hei ignored it, and continued, “I mean, I found out that they were conducting some illegal activity. And I turned them in.”

He expected Kirihara to appreciate that. Misaki certainly had. Instead, the Superintendent said, “Loyalty in one’s employees is certainly hard to come by these days. I do hope you intend to stay loyal to your new employers. The police.”

“Of course! I mean, M- the Chief has built such a strong team. That’s the main reason why I wanted to join Section Four.”

That at least got a hint of a smile out of Kirihara. “The others in Section Four have transferred their bad habit to you, I see. You all call her _Chief_ still, but Misaki is a director now.”

“I think I prefer it that way, actually,” Misaki interrupted, finally taking a long sip of wine. “It reminds me that I have a supportive team, who’ve stuck with me for so long.”

“That is certainly an accomplishment to be proud of; no other chief I can think of could have handled the Tokyo Explosion as adroitly as you did, not to mention having such an early jumpstart on the investigation.”

“I had good intel,” she said with a subtle smile in Hei’s direction.

Kirihara pursed his lips. “Yes, BK-201. I still can’t believe you trusted him at all, let alone to the extent that you did.”

“I trusted my intuition,” Misaki retorted, “which told me that he was genuinely concerned about the welfare of this country. And I was right.”

“Misaki, if you knew half the things that contractor has done -”

“I suppose you know better than I do, here too?” She took another sip - more of a mouthful - of wine, her cheeks growing a bit rosy. Hei wasn’t sure if that was from the alcohol, or the topic of conversation. He _was_ sure that they needed to get off this topic as quickly as possible; he didn’t want to know what Misaki’s father truly thought of him.

“I just mean, the rumors alone!”

Kirihara was sounding a bit flustered now; Hei wondered if he and Misaki typically argued like this. He’d heard Misaki speak of her father both in terms of respect and exasperation, but always in a positive light. This outright disagreement was a little bit of a shock. He couldn’t remember ever arguing with his own father; and he would definitely never have dreamed of arguing with -

Hei aggressively shoved that thought aside.

“Well, it was my call, and you’ll never convince me I made the wrong choice,” Misaki said hotly. “As a police officer, I know better than to put all my trust in _rumors_.”

Kirihara sighed. “I don’t think I will ever get used to this defense of contractors you’ve been on lately. I am glad that you’ve given up your ridiculous idea of hiring one.”

“Who says I’ve given up? What I wanted above all was to hire the right person for the job - that just happened to be Li.”

“Hm. Li, you’ve been part of Section Four for a few weeks now; I imagine you’ve had the chance to interact with a contractor or two. What do you think about my daughter’s insistence that these creatures can be depended on as part of the police?”

Hei had to suppress a cringe at being brought back into the conversation. “Um, well, I trust the Chief’s judgment…”

Misaki shot him a hard look. He was supposed to be being himself; right. Drawing in a deep breath, he continued, “But anyway, I think she’s right.”

Kirihara’s eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. “Oh?”

“I mean, I have had some…exposure to contractors before. And yeah, a lot of them are cold-blooded monsters. Maybe even most of them.”

“Hei!” Misaki exclaimed.

He gave her a level look. “It’s true; you can’t pretend it’s not. But…not all of them are like that. And they’ve been changing more and more, lately. Evening Primrose is a good example. Ten years ago, you would never have seen contractors working together for a cause like that. So, I guess it depends on the individual contractor, and the individual situation. But yeah. Mis - the Chief is right. A contractor _could_ be a valuable member of the police. Some day.”

Kirihara regarded him steadily. Hei pretended that it was Huang’s disapproval he was under, and didn’t flinch.

“What do your family think of your joining Section Four, and working with contractors?”

There was a hard, interrogative edge to Kirihara’s voice now; it was a marked shift in tone from the earlier conversation.

“They, um, don’t know.” The band around Hei’s chest was back, tightening until he wasn’t sure how he was still breathing.

“Why wouldn’t you want to tell them? Don’t you think they’d be proud?”

“I guess they would. I don’t know. It’s complicated,” Hei said shortly.

“Dad, you said you wanted to get to know my new recruit,” Misaki said, clearly irritated, “not interrogate him. I told you already, Hei was a perfect match for the position; what his family may or may not think isn’t relevant to how well he does at his job.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Misaki, I’m not interrogating him; I’m just curious about any new officer who’s accepted to Section Four.”

His tone was still polite, but any hint of friendliness had vanished. Hei couldn’t understand the shift; it didn’t seem to be due to a simple difference in opinion. Fortunately though, the conversation was at a natural standstill, giving them all time to focus on their dinners. His swordfish had been grilled to perfection, with an interesting blend of spices, but he found himself unable to really enjoy it. Misaki was sitting next to him at the square table; it was even worse than that the seminar earlier had been. Never had he so needed her reassuring touch - but he didn’t dare try even nudging her foot under the table.

Hei was careful to eat at more or less the same rate as Kirihara, lest he give the man something else to comment on. Misaki, however, quickly polished off the last of her wine as well as her shrimp, then spent a few minutes shifting awkwardly in her chair.

“I really need to run to the restroom,” she said at last. “I’m sorry; excuse me. Dad, will you at least try to be nice while I’m gone?”

“Why on earth wouldn’t I be nice?” Kirihara said noncommittally, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin.

No sooner had Misaki left the table however, than he threw the napkin down and fixed Hei with a cold glare. “I don’t know what your game is, _Hei_ , but you will leave my daughter out of it!”

Hei froze, his last bite of fish halfway to his mouth. “Um…what?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s despicable, the way you’re taking advantage of Misaki’s idealism like this! You have to know she won’t keep lying for you forever, especially not once she finds out you’re only using her to infiltrate the police.”

“I’m not - I _work_ for the police.”

“And don’t think I’m afraid of you. I love my daughter more than my own life; if you’re not _gone_ from her life by tomorrow, I will tell her superintendent, and her team, and, if I have to, the press, exactly who and _what_ you are!”

For a long moment, all Hei could do was stare in utter defeat. He’d known this would never work out; he’d known -

Wait, how had _Kirihara_ known?

Hei’s mind rapidly analyzed the situation. Kirihara had thought he recognized his face; Misaki had used his name, twice, in addition to her initial introduction. And all those little, but _true_ , details about himself. The key to a good cover story was to keep it bland and simple - death was in the details.

Everything clicked together.

“You were with the Syndicate,” he said flatly.

It was Kirihara’s turn to stare in shock. “You can’t prove I was involved in anything,” he said at last.

“I did a job two years ago - covert surveillance of a transfer of information. I thought your voice sounded familiar.”

“That wasn’t - no one would believe a contractor over me in any case. Especially not one like you.”

“Like me?” Hei realized he was holding his steak knife in a loose, ready grip. He forced himself to set it down next to his plate.

“I have no idea what you could have possibly done to get Misaki on your side, what lies you’ve told her. I’ve seen your dossier - if Misaki had seen even a single paragraph -”

He wasn’t wrong, Hei knew. Still he interrupted, “I’ve told her nothing but the truth. But she doesn’t know, does she. About you.”

It wasn’t really a question. Misaki’s respect for her father would have been seriously impacted by knowing that he had any kind of association with the Syndicate. And, she would have told Hei.

“What I do or do not discuss with my daughter is none of your business!”

“Misaki knows everything about me,” Hei said, feeling a surprising touch of anger. “You’re her father, and you can’t even tell her the truth about yourself?”

Kirihara’s face paled. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“What - no. Of course not.”

“Don’t give me that bull. You would do anything to protect yourself and your interests, and we both know it. Whatever your goal is in convincing Misaki to hire you -”

“I just want to live a normal life,” Hei said quietly. “I like working with Misaki, and the police. That’s all.”

Kirihara eyed him. “If that’s the game you want to play, then fine. So be it. But just know that I will be watching you, and if any harm comes to her, even the slightest _scratch_ , then I will see you arrested and sent to the deepest, darkest pit this side of the world.”

Hei met his gaze unwavering.

“Hey, sorry that took so long; there was a line and - is everything alright?” Misaki sat down slowly, glancing between the two of them.

Kirihara cleared his throat. “We were just discussing contractors again; I’m afraid we’ll have to agree to disagree on this point. Misaki, I’m sorry, but something urgent just came up at the office. I’ll pay for the meal on my way out, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Misaki said, her brow furrowing slightly. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Li, it was certainly…interesting meeting you.” There was only the barest trace of politeness in his voice. “I’m sure we’ll be able to work together with no problems.”

“Um, sure,” was all Hei could bring himself to say.

Misaki watched her father head to the front of the restaurant with a frown. “Hei, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to leave you on your own like that, but I really thought my bladder was going to explode. Things seemed a little tense between the two of you just now - what happened?”

Hei hated to lie to her; but finding out her father was involved in the Syndicate would kill her. And he supposed he had technically promised Kirihara not to say anything; it probably wasn’t possible for the man to think any worse of him, but he wasn’t going to add breaking his word to the list.

“Like your dad said. We just…disagreed about how a contractor can work for the police.”

Misaki sighed. “I told you, my dad has ridiculously high standards. I guess that applies to the men I recruit as well as the men I date.”

“I tried to do what you said. Just be myself.”

“It’ll take him a while to come around, but don’t worry - he will.”

“What if he never does?” Hei asked quietly.

“Then he never does. But it’s my department; my life. And I want you in both. Now come on, let’s go pick up your things and then stop by the grocery store. You barely ate anything tonight, you must be starving.”

As they left the restaurant, Misaki slipped her hand into his. Weaving his fingers through hers, Hei at last felt the constriction in his chest lessening.

He wondered - not for the first time, and he was sure not for the last - what he had ever done to deserve her.


End file.
